


Snowflakes

by misura



Category: Dragaera - Steven Brust
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Daymar studies snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ferdelance (Serpentine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpentine/gifts).



> No idea when this would happen. (Well, _never_ sounds accurate, but um.)

It's the winter that Vlad will refer to later as 'when Daymar got obsessed with snow', and although Kragar does think it's remarkable and a little strange, even for Daymar, to spend weeks studying snowflakes, he thinks it remarkable and stranger still that Vlad can be so much of a prude, and refuse to talk about things one generally does in the nude when he's fully dressed.

Morrolan, when Kragar mentions Vlad's term for this period to him, looks unsurprised, and informs Kragar more than a little smugly that it's an Easterner thing, and that Kragar wouldn't understand. To which Kragar makes a suggestion that's saved from being obscene only by the recent change in their relationship, and which Morrolan therefore chooses to interpret as an invitation, rather than an insult.

Kragar has discovered that Morrolan can hear and see invitations in quite a lot of things - in almost as many things as he can hear and see insults, as a matter of fact, which is definitely a Dragonlord thing, because Kragar sure doesn't remember ever having taken someone passing the salt as an invitation for a little bedroom-sport in between breakfast. It seems to bother Vlad more than it does Kragar, but then again, a lot of things about this situation seem to bother Vlad, if never to a point where he actually puts a stop to it. Possibly, that too is an Easterner thing.

  


The courtyard of Castle Black seems to be covered by a new blanket of snow every time Kragar looks out of Morrolan's bedroomwindow (spelled to repel cold and keep in warm, while allowing fresh air to enter unhinderedly - a quite complicated piece of sorcery, according to Morrolan, who probably knows what he's talking about, even if Kragar'd cut his own throat before admitting that much.) More often than not, Daymar is there, collecting snowflakes and putting them in small glass cases.

Kragar's pretty sure the spells on those cases are at least three times as complicated as the ones on Morrolan's bedroomwindows, because they keep the snowflakes within from melting, as well as enlarging it several times, the better to show the patterns of the crystal. On top of that, they don't break when sat upon (luckily for several brazen Dzurlords) or stain when a clumsy Easterner spills wine on them. Daymar's a Hawklord though, albeit an atypical one, so when he runs into Kragar in the Great Hall, where breakfast is being served without any Dragonlords who will consider a request for a piece of bread an invitation to tackle him, and where Lady Teldra offers him a friendly smile void of any smirks or leers, Daymar doesn't brag, and eagerly offers Kragar to explain his snowflake-capture-procedure to him. Kragar declines politely. Daymar's tried to explain things to him before, and Kragar never got more out of it than a headache.

He suggests that Morrolan, as a fellow lover of knowledge and learning, may be interested, at which Daymar sniffs and declares Morrolan to be too much of a Dragon to take an interest in the lofty study of the shapes of snowflakes. Kragar is amused enough by this to allow Daymar half an hour's babbling about the theories laid down by the Athyra Nyttaan, who claims each and every snowflake to be unique, and the Dzur scholar Inquenda, who claims there are merely a 'whole bloody lot' of shapes of snowflakes, but denies that no two snowflakes are exactly alike.

After that, he spots Aliera striding down the stairs, two handsome young Dragonlords on each arm, and several more of them following her, looking like they would dearly love to be allowed to lie at her feet in order to experience the pleasure of having her walk over them. Kragar excuses himself and heads in the opposite direction, leaving Daymar to his beloved snowflakes, for as long as that new love may last. Kragar wouldn't lay any bets on it lasting beyond this one winter, especially not with Morrolan's library having been made accessible to Daymar, in exchange for a solemn promise not to try out any book-copying spells on those few rare works Daymar doesn't own himself.

  


For lack of any better place to go, Kragar returns to Morrolan's rooms, where he finds Vlad, half-awake and moody, and no Morrolan. The first is no more of a surprise than the last is a disappointment. Kragar doesn't particularly like Morrolan, and he's reasonably sure that the feeling is mutual, although of course, especially when Vlad's around, Morrolan is polite about it, veiling his threats and insults thickly enough for Vlad to fail to spot them. Another Dragon, or even another human, Kragar might have suspected of only pretending not to notice when Kragar's being reminded that Morrolan considers himself his superior in all things, but Vlad's just too honest for something like that, for all that he's a Jhereg, and one who's done quite well for himself, at that.

"There's breakfast being served in the Great Hall," Kragar says, because he knows the only things that help against Vlad's morning temper are food and a cup of good coffee or klava. "I can recommend the eggs with snippets of pinkfish."

"I'm not hungry," Vlad says. "I'm sleepy. Leave me alone, will you?"

Had Vlad been human, Kragar would have called this stubborn attitude 'acting his age'. Vlad being what he is, Kragar's not sure what to call it, or even if it's uncalled for.

"Did you say that to Morrolan, too? Is that why he's gone?" Kragar asks, idly picking up some of Vlad's clothes. It would surprise him if Vlad would have that much influence on Morrolan, but then again, Vlad's not some ex-Dragon. Vlad's just Vlad, and to Morrolan, that might make him more of a person to respect and heed than Kragar.

"Are you joking?" Vlad sits up, his hands clutching the sheet to make sure certain parts of his body remain covered, as if Kragar hasn't ever seen him naked. "As if that bastard would listen to anything I tell him!"

Kragar knows that on many occasions, when it's about security, or witchcraft, Morrolan does listen to Vlad. He also knows that pointing this out here and now has little use, because that's not what Vlad means.

"Well, then, do you still want to be here when he comes back from wherever it is he went?" Kragar inquires. "Get dressed and get some food into you, and we can go over those reports I got yesterday."

He tosses the clothes on the bed, where Vlad can reach them and makes a show of turning his back, pretending to look at a painting depicting some strange landscape. Behind him, there's a few seconds of silence, before Vlad decides to take his advice and gets dressed in a hurry. After Vlad's gotten some breakfast, Kragar decides he'll have to go hunting for Vlad's bag of luggage - a quick refreshing-and-cleaning spell is all very well, but the lemon-scent reminds Kragar of Morrolan, and he doesn't really want to discuss Jhereg-business when Vlad still smells like that. It's bad enough that Vlad more or less lives here, with Kragar having used more teleport-spells the past two weeks than he'd normally use in a year. Kragar'd almost wish he was an Easterner, too, so that he'd have an excuse not to teleport unless he has to - although he's not at all sure what would have happened then, what would be different.

As it is, he keeps the business running, while Vlad takes a few weeks off, to relax a little after a busy year, or at least spend some time in a place where nobody's going to try to stick a knife into his back.

"You know, I think I've actually been there," Vlad comments, walking up to Kragar. His shirt's rumpled, and Kragar takes a perverse pleasure in having spotted a flaw in Morrolan's 'get your clothes good as new'-spell. Daymar would never have made a slip like that. Daymar only makes the kind of slips that result in things blowing up.

"Been where?" Kragar tries the door and finds it open, which is a good thing, and a lucky one.

"That place on the painting you were studying," Vlad says. "Morrolan took me there. I met some Serioli, who told me some stuff about Spellbreaker."

"Ah," Kragar says. "Anything useful?"

"No," Vlad says. "Yes. Maybe."

"Sounds like a typical Serioli," Kragar says. He's never met one in his life, and thinks it unlikely that he ever will. He's second-in-command to an Easterner; that's pretty unusual already, and not something he'd ever have expected to happen when he was young, stupid and still a Dragon.

  


Aliera is sitting at the main-table, surrounded by her admirers, taking dainty bites of bread with eggs and pinkfish. Kragar turns to suggest to Vlad that they take their seats someplace where Aliera is unlikely to see them, unless she looks for them, only to find Vlad has already picked a table, and is being smiled at by Lady Teldra, who bids them both good morning and dimples at Kragar when she hears he's already recommended a certain dish to Vlad.

When Vlad's halfway through his breakfast, Daymar comes running in, waving two glass cases, and so they somehow end up spending the rest of that morning looking at snowflakes and debating the degree in which two snowflakes may differ in order to claim that each of them is unique. Daymar does most of the talking, answering his own questions, but Vlad puts in a word every now and then, and Kragar's content to just sit there and sip the heated wine that smells of cinnamon and strangely, impossibly tastes like home.


End file.
